


siempre fue asi nuestra historia

by AssyEr



Series: The Mechs But They Are Trapped In This Reality To Pay For Their Sins [3]
Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Caretaking, Gen, Sickfic, Trans Character, brian is the best roommate one could ask for, is it quality? it is fun, no beta we die like men, oof the tags, that would be jonny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25816468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssyEr/pseuds/AssyEr
Summary: “You're going to die", said the figure in a creaky voice.Brian felt his blood turn cold.Then it crouched down and threw up on his floor.He went for his lamp, quickly turning it on. “Jonny?” he asked, recognizing the sick man.Or; Jonny gets sick and Brian is the roommate we all wish for
Relationships: Drumbot Brian & Jonny d'Ville, Drumbot Brian/Jonny d'Ville
Series: The Mechs But They Are Trapped In This Reality To Pay For Their Sins [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1864471
Comments: 16
Kudos: 124
Collections: Writer's Month 2020





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> written for writer's month 2020 prompt being illness.
> 
> I'll be honest, i wrote the second chapter for it, and then decided that the events before that would also do a nice fic. Did it ended up being longer than the original written? yes, yes it did
> 
> Title from La doctora II, by las pastillas del abuelo. Does it have anything to do with this fic? nop, but ao3 demanded that i put something on that damn box

Brian closed the cupboard a little rougher than necessary. There were no hidden plates.

He hadn’t had much hope to find them there, to be honest. The cupboard was one of the higher ones, and Jonny couldn’t reach it unless he climbed on the counter, which he knew he wouldn’t do out of pride.

Brian had got him a small step, once, one of those that you could fold and keep wherever you wanted, without it being an annoyance. Jonny had thrown it out of the window (thankfully not hitting anybody, as Brian made sure to check), and refused to talk to him for the rest of the week, no matter how many reasonable arguments he gave him ( _please, Jonny, we can’t just keep stacking everything in the lowers shelf, we need the space)_.

Eventually they had reached a middle point. Any stuff Jonny might need was left on the lower furniture, all sense of order be damned. And if he ever needed something, he just angrily stared at the cupboard, until Brian left the room and he could do what was necessary (aka climbing whatever was in the way to get to it, doing his best not to fall).

Still, Brian could hope.

He had already looked everywhere, taking advantage of his roommate locking himself in his room, but hadn’t found anything. He had even inspected the freezer, and the bad shelf on the freezer that they should definitely clean but were too intimidated by its nastiness to even start. Neither did he found evidence on the space under the oven (well, evidence of Jonny’s crime. There were other things there that he forced himself to forget).

Normally, he would forget about all this. He had inspected the whole kitchen without result, after all. But. Last time he had made the dishes he discretely counted how many plates, knives, forks and glasses they owned.

Today, when Jonny finished “washing" the cutlery and gone to his room, Brian took stock of what they had. They were three dishes, two knives and five forks down from the day before.

And he had no idea of where they were.

It’s not like he could confront him with just that. Jonny would tell him that he must have miscounted, or that he was crazy. Those were the reactions he got when he told Tim and Ivy. Marius and TS had offered to lend him some of their plates if he needed them that much. Ashes and Nastya told him to tie Jonny up and torture him for answers, though only Ashes seemed serious about it.

Raphaela told him to get evidence, and that’s the advice he took.

He sat on the floor, looking at the small kitchen. It seemed to be laughing at him and his quest. He gave it the finger, because he was too tired to think of how dumb it looked.

There was a clock on the wall opposite him, indicating five past four.

That was weird, he didn’t recall spending so much time in here, had it stopped again? No, a glance at his phone told him. He had really spend two hours and a half looking for Jonny's hiding place.

Talking about Jonny, where was he? He would normally be up already at this time, annoying Brian and just being loud in general. Not only remaining hidden, but also in quiet was very out of character.

A worry came over him. _What was he doing?_

He got up, deciding to go to his bedroom and find out what had him so busy. He gave the god he sometimes believed in a quick pray for the house to survive it.

When Brian got to his room, he noticed the door was half opened. He peaked inside, not seeing much because the lights were off. Jonny had to be there, he couldn’t have gone out without him noticing, with the door next to the kitchen. Unless of course he had decided to go through the window. Again. But Brian doubted that was the case, it’s not as if they had been fighting for him wanting to avoid Brian that much.

Then he noticed a faint light from where the bed normally was. Jonny’s cell phone. And Jonny holding it, unless it had recently acquired the ability to hover.

“Jonny?” he dared to step in, letting the corridor’s light into the room.

It seemed that Brian had been right, and the old phone was still bound to the laws of gravity, as there was indeed an arm holding it, presumably Jonny’s. He could only presume that it was his, because the owner was covered in at least two bedspread, and one old grey blanket that Brian would have sworn he got rid of the last time they had a spring cleaning, but apparently Jonny had managed to sneak back into the flat.

There was a small hole in the shelter, (barely) big enough for Jonny’s face, who looked absolutely miserable. Or rather, gave the impression that anyone who approached him would become miserable. He had his jaw clenched, and was looking at the screen with an expression of pure hatred that left no option but to assume that it had wronged him in some personal level, just by existing.

Over all, not an exciting view for someone who wanted to engage with him.

Jonny groaned at him in acknowledge of his presence

“Should I call Marius?” Brian asked, sitting on the side of the bed next to him.

It wouldn’t be something unusual, for him to call his friend for things like this. The wanna-be-medic had expected when he decided to study medicine that friends and family (and people who he hadn’t seen in years but somehow believed that the fact that they still had his phone number was proof and only requirement of the minimum level of closeness needed for contacting him) call him for advice, and that hadn’t sound that bad. He liked being useful. But Marius had hoped that they would at least wait until he had passed his first year before calling about a possibly-failing-pacemaker.

On that particular occasion, he had yelled quite aggressively to Brian to get a real doctor for fucks sake. He was still learning how the ear worked, an advanced heart-machine was way out of his league.

Marius had heard Jonny from the background screaming that he was fine, and Brian threatening with torture if he didn’t give him his doctor’s number.

It turned out that it hadn’t been as much of a life or death situation, but more of a “Jonny not following with the restrictions his doctors had given him and was now facing the consequence situation”. That had been the first time Marius had stayed on their flat to keep an eye on his “patient”, as well the first time he called himself a doctor (he thought he deserved the title, after almost dying of worry).

The point was, were Brian to call Marius right now, not knowing exactly what was wrong with Jonny… it wouldn’t be the first time, and definitely not the last.

That was why Brian was already looking for his contact, even after hearing Jonny’s no.

“I’m not dying yet” Jonny groaned. “I’m just expelling an organ from my genitalia, you don’t need to call Marius for that”

Brian sighed. It… wasn’t the best situation, true. A Jonny on his period was twice as likely to engage on violence as a normal Jonny, if such thing was possible. But at least the idiot wasn’t dying.

Jonny was looking at him with eyes full of hate. He would have taken offense for that, except that he knew by now that it wasn’t anything personal. That was just Jonny for you.

Still, he took pity on him.

“Did you take anything for the pain yet?” he asked, putting a hand on his head to try and see if he had a fever.

“No", Jonny snarled at him.

He didn’t have a fever, but surely a headache, by the way he hadn’t even tried to bit his hand off when he took his temperature.

Brian got up. “I'm getting you painkillers, do you want anything else?” he offered.

“No", he said, in the same tone than before.

Right. Better to get on it.

He went to the kitchen, and got a glass of water. Remembering that they also had one of those hot water bottles, he put the kettle on, making a mental note to turn it off before it started to boil.

Logically, the bottle should be on the bathroom, in the cabinet with the towels, or maybe with the meds. If it wasn’t there, he would have to ask Jonny. He really hoped it was there, not wanting to get snarled at again.

The painkillers were easy to find. Given Jonny’s… lifestyle choices, they were careful to be always stocked, with them being in an accessible shelf behind the mirror, clearly labelled inside a plastic box.

He had taken a pair of Jonny’s, as his were hidden on his room (just in case!), with the main difference between them being that the first wouldn’t make his heart explode.

But the water bottle, the thing he had really hoped to find, was nowhere to be seen. He looked in the towels cabinet, and in the one that they shoved everything else that belonged to the bathroom but was not a towel or meds. He found a rubber duck (Brian’s), a hair dryer (Jonny’s), and a military hat (the Toy Soldier’s?), but no bottle.

He takes a moment to accept his faith, and goes back to the bedroom. Before, he makes a stop on the kitchen to get a glass of water to give Jonny with the painkillers, because he didn’t want to enter the place without some kind of offering.

“Jonny?” he said, with a glass of water and pills on hand.

Brian noticed that Jonny had left his phone to the side, and was now plain, by the book, sulking on bed. Staring up to the ceiling with a zombie expression, he looked like he had decided to go on his mind trough every single person that had wronged him before taking his last breath.

He was glad he brought the med.

Jonny turned to him, and he sees the glass of water on his hand. Brian follows his gaze, and shows him the pills, too, and is rewarded by being promoted from his hate focus to a tolerable annoyance. He extend his hands towards him, asking for the drugs and its sweet, sweet release.

“Where’s that hot water bottle?” Brian asked while he drank the water.

Jonny all but growled at him. “It's mine"

He was quick to placate the beast. “I know, I know, it's not for me. I thought that it might help, I just started to warm the water”.

He just eyed at Brian suspiciously, trying to see if he was lying to steal his precious bottle. “Wardrobe, third drawer", he told him, when he didn’t find anything.

Brian tries very hard to ignore the knives that are thrown to his back.

Had Jonny really thought that he would try to steal the bottle? (Still thinks, probably, by the way he was observing his every move). What on earth would he want it for?

He had said it was on the third drawer, but the thing was a mess. He should have guessed that the man’s lack of order would translate to every aspect of his life, but his wardrobe. He already had the drawers, why couldn’t he use them right? There were socks in there, as well as a green highlighter, a torch, a knife, chewed gum that he decided not to think much about, another knife…

Finally, he found it. It was on the bottom of the thing, under a fifth knife.

Maybe Jonny wasn’t hiding the knives they used for eating to make Brian wash them. Maybe he had stolen and saved them in another drawer, as a different collection of knives than the one he had seen in there.

Bottle in hand, he makes his way to the kitchen and the kettle full of now hot water. He turned off the fire, and started to clean the so searched object (it had been on Jonny’s drawer, with chewing gum and socks and knives of dubious precedence).

Midway through the action, he started to wonder if perhaps the water was too hot. He had left it for a good while on the fire, after all. Not enough for it to boil, apparently, but still. Maybe he should take a rag? So Jonny could wrap the bottle if he wanted. Yes, he should definitely take one.

When he goes back to the room, he finds Jonny in the same miserable position than before, but with his eyes closed. Brian was about to leave (it was a good thing that he was sleeping, he didn’t want to wake him up) when he opened them, analysing his figure, probably in search of the bottle. He resisted the urge to apologise for waking him up, only because he knew that he would only tell him that he had in no way been sleeping, just resting his eyes, bloody hell what are you? The sleep police?

Brian gave him the water bottle. “I’ve got a rag, if it’s too hot" he mentioned.

The person who had definitely not been nodding off moved to lay on his back, and extended one arm to grab the bottle, ignoring Brian’s offer of a rag, and put it over his stomach, under the covers.

Jonny sighed. For all the troubles it had caused, the thing did feel nice. He could feel the muscles on his stomach relax a bit, and, who could have guessed, not being all tense over a bleeding part of his body actually helped with the discomfort. He closed his eyes for a moment, relishing on the feeling.

He does look better, Brian decided. His job was over (Jonny probably couldn’t wait until he left him alone right now).

However, when he turned around to leave, he heard a small ‘ _wait'._ He looked back at Jonny.

“Can you get me my computer?” he _asked._ Jonny d'Ville. In an almost kind tone. Hell must be freezing, Brian thought.

“Sure.”

The laptop was probably the only easy thing in the room to find, apart from the bed, if only because it was next to it, as its owner was in a habit of using it on over the sheets before sleeping (even after being told that it was bad for the computer and the bedsheet, with the risk of it being burned. This were obviously lies, and should not be listened to, even if the fans on the machine do seem to be running a little faster than normal). Brian gave the thing to Jonny, and searched for the charger. He would probably use it for a while, after all.

He was definitely not looking for a reason to stay.

~~Unfortunately~~ He was quick to find it, still being plugged into the socket. He handed the other end to him, watching him put it on the computer.

“Do you need anything else?” Brian asked him, because he was that good of a roommate.

Jonny fidgeted a little with the cursor, moving it in circles as Netflix loaded. “I’m going to watch Nailed It,” he actually managed not to grumble at him.

The drumbot smiled, recognizing an invitation when shoved at him.

“Care if I join you?” he said, though he really, really hated the program.

“Do whatever you want", Jonny answered, but moving to the right to make space for him.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Climbing on to the bed, he got under the covers, not bothering with any extra pillows. It’s not as if he would be watching that stupid ridiculous show anyway.

When Brian settles in, gaze on the screen, waiting for a show he is not going to watch, no matter how bored he gets, he feel something. Jonny’s left leg had settled next to his, touching only barely that it could be passed as just an accident, if he thought too much into it. He looked up to his roommate, who was a little red on the face, and had apparently found his new passion in watching the percentage bar move as the video loaded.

He smiled and cuddled next to him, lying on his side now with his head over Jonny’s shoulder, still watching the computer. Brian felt him tense a bit, for a moment almost long enough for him to retreat, but eventually he relaxed, and moved his legs to be partially over his, leaning slightly to his left.

Jonny d'Ville did definitely not, on any moments, not even in your wildest dreams, rest his cheek on top of Brian’s head, or whisper a small thank you as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of the soft curls on his face.

Anyone who said something like that would be a liar, and should not be believed on anything ever on their life. Period.

At some point during the afternoon Brian had fallen asleep, probably out of boredom, even when he had Jonny’s magnificent comments to keep him entertained. It was fun to see people overestimate their ability to recreate masterpieces cakes, but after a while it gets just… sad.

He wakes up to the sound of a bag of chips being opened next to his head.

“Where did you get those?” he ask, sleep still on his voice. He was still half over Jonny, and would have woken up if he had gotten up to get food. He hoped.

“Not sharing,” was his answer, intoned with a surprising lack of aggression. At least he seemed to be on a better mood than before.

Brian looked up. Jonny had the bag over his stomach, and was trying to shove a considerable amount of the snack into his mouth. After a moment of just staring, he found what was wrong with the picture.

“Where did you get those?” he questioned. “I didn’t get any last time I went for groceries”. That had been a few weeks ago, and neither of them had gotten out, except on emergencies.

Had Jonny faked one just to get a bag of chips?

“Found them in a box under the bed”

He sat up and yes, on the floor, next to the bed, was an old shoe box, containing more snacks, candy, and was that a pack of cigarettes? There was, of course, another, smaller, knife inside. Brian had a rat of a roommate.

“Are they green?” he asked referring to the chips that were, in fact, of a worrisome shade of green.

“They do come from a vegetable, you know.” Jonny shoved another into his mouth.

“Barely,” Brian replied. “I’m not sure you should be eating those.”

“Well, I’m sure I didn’t ask for your opinion”

“I can’t believe you.” He shoved his head into his hands, grasping at the lack of common sense of the person next to him. After admitting to himself that it must be his fault for having hope in the first place, he searched for his phone between the sheets, and looked at the time. It was getting late, might as well get up and do something. “I’m making dinner,” he told Jonny before leaving. “Let me know when you start dying of food poisoning.”

If Jonny remembered that it was his turn on cocking, he didn’t say anything.


	2. consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he shouldnt have eaten those fries

There was someone else in the room with him.

Brian had never been a light sleeper, but he found himself waking up at three am at a raspy, shallow breathing that was definitely not his own, coming from the doorway. He felt all remains of sleep leave his body in an instant.

He risked opening an eye, staying completely still. There, on the door of his bedroom, illuminated by a dim light from the corridor, was a broad silhouette, looking directly at him. It did not move.

Brian closed his eye again. Whatever it was, probably hadn’t realized he was awake, and he had no intention of letting it know.

Oh, God, he was going to get murdered.

Should he scream? That would surely make the thing attack him, but he might wake Jonny, or at least their neighbours. The silhouette seemed too big for him to fight, not to mention that it surely must have some kind of weapon. He would probably be dead before Jonny or whoever come to his rescue.

Jonny.

What if it had already killed him? He was practically impossible to wake up on a reasonable hour, there was no way he got up by himself.

But Brian’s room was the nearest to the living and kitchen, if that’s where he entered from. And he liked to think that he would have woken up if his roommate was being murdered next door. Their walls weren’t that good.

“You're going to die", said the figure in a creaky voice.

Brian felt his blood turn cold.

Then it crouched down and threw up on his floor.

He went for his lamp, quickly turning it on. “Jonny?” he asked, recognizing the sick man.

Jonny retched again.

He was covered in many blankets and coats, hence his apparent broad figure. That, and his bare feet were all that Brian could see from his position on top of the bed, with the aforementioned ball of cloth that was definitely not going to murder him still on the doorway, now trembling.

Brian got up and crossed the room, crouching next to him. Once he found his head he confirmed that he was indeed running a fever, apart from very sweaty.

His roommate looked up at him when the nausea subdued, his glassy eyes meeting Brian’s. He had his jaw clenched in an effort to keep his teeth from chattering, and his face was covered in sweat and- was Jonny crying?

“Jonny?” Brian asked, worried.

He looked at him remorseful expression.

“You're going to die" he whispered in the dark.

Brian sat back, relief washing over him. He was only gone from the fever, not _crying_ crying. Not that it was a good thing, but. It was a better option, not wanting to imagine what would be capable of making the man remember he had feelings.

“I'm sorry", Jonny apologized, a confirmation for Brian of how much coherence the guy still had.

“It's fine, let’s get you to bed and I’ll clean this", Brian said, thinking he was referring to the vomit.

He tried to get him to stand up by grabbing him by his arms. Jonny, of course, did his best to stay on the cold, now stinking, floor. Until he seemed to realize something, and he bolted up with a speed no one would have thought him capable of while on his present condition, and grabbed Brian by the shoulders, half for dramatic effect, half in an effort not to fall. “I killed you,” he told him, emphasizing each word.

Brian grabbed him back, worried that he might fall over. “You didn’t kill me Jonny, I’m alive, see?” he took one of his hands and drove it to his face, in part to show him he was not a ghost, and in part because his long nails had begun to painfully dig into his skin, with the force that he was clutching him. “Flesh and bone", he added.

He strongly tugged his ear, an annoyed expression on his face. “Ah, ah, damn it Jonny", Brian said, following his hand because for someone who had been barfing all over the floor a few minutes ago he did have some strength.

“Of course you are alive, asshole,” he said, freeing his ear. “But not for long.” The seriousness returned to him.

“Life is an illusion for man to give weight to the concept of future. Let’s get you to bed.” He began to lead him to the corridor.

“Marius said you shouldn’t say things like that", Jonny commented, letting himself be guided. “But that’s not what I meant", he continued.

“Oh?” Brian opened Jonny’s door. “And what did you meant?” he asked after a moment of silence.

The room was, like always, a disaster. Music sheets on the floor, with belts acting like paperweights (or just thrown in random places, who could say at this point). His wardrobe was wide open, probably from him trying to find covert, and something he couldn’t see next to the nightstand. Probably a knife.

“…that thing, we did earlier", Jonny said, oblivious to Brian's examination of his room. He looked at him, with red cheeks. “I probably infected you with whatever this is.”

Brian did his best not to laugh at his inability to even mention the cuddling session they had, and at his belief that somehow a stomach bug (or food poisoning, or whatever it was that those rotten chips had given him, because he was sure it had been the chips. Just remembering him eating those made him shudder) could be passed onto him like some common virus.

Because it couldn’t, right?

Of course not.

But Jonny wouldn’t appreciate him laughing at him, so he did his best to keep with the conversation.

“It's probably fine, I have a great immune system. You’re not going to die, drama queen.” Jonny did not find it amusing.

“I withdraw my apologies. Your death will be my only consolation on the afterlife". They stepped into the room.

The bed was already opened and in a decent state, thankfully. Brian lead Jonny through the path that appeared to have less papers on it, and let him get comfortable, sinking his face into the pillow.

He accidentally kicked something with his feet. A bottle of alcohol. An empty bottle of alcohol, right between the nightstand and the bed. He was sure it hadn’t been there when he left the room earlier that day. He took it and gave it a look.

“Jonny?” he asked him.

A uniformed mass covered in the sheets hummed in acknowledgement.

Jonny was cold, but also running a fever. Should he let him just muffle up? Brian couldn’t remember being sick like that, maybe he needed to go to the hospital? But it didn’t seem to be that bad, just a normal bug, if TV and Fanfiction could be cited as credible sources.

He also appeared to be kind of delirious. Was that worrisome?

He would ask Marius. No, Ivy. She wouldn’t panic, and probably give him better indications as what to do.

She would also be awake, probably.

The uniformed mass hummed again, this time annoyed.

Right.

“Why is there an empty bottle of whiskey on the floor?” he asked.

“Because my stomach hurt". He said it as if it was obvious.

Okay.

The man not only had a horrible bug, but had emptied a bottle on it. As you do. Sure. He was definitely calling Ivy. And maybe Marius too. And Nastya, to ask if he had always been this stupid or it was a constant process of evolution.

It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it the best? i had fun writting it, and that's enough.
> 
> Let me know what you think! kudos and comments feel freaking awsome, you know?
> 
> oh, and let me know if you thing i missed any tag, i bluescreened in that box


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